That doesn't change anything
by Witch fang
Summary: Night watch Vetinari/Vimes slash. Set during Night Watch, what if Sam met Vetinari back then? And, sorta, possibly, maybe something...ocured? Lemon. Perhaps maybe a sequel. I don't know.


Sitting in the plush lounge, Sam Vimes would have slumped and glared and tried to find a) a cigar, b) a way out or c) a drink. John Keel sat, and watched the madam leave, trailing laughter and the promise of alcohol. He knew for a _damn_ fact, that he wasn't alone here. He had felt the pair of cold eyes on his neck and he glared into the shadows, staring at the darkness's opening act of nothing. It was unimpressive. Vimes had seen nothing at its best. This impression was young, badly finished and still green behind the metaphorical ears. Vimes scowled and stood, stubbing out his cigar and leaving it in the silver ashtray. He walked towards the doors, hands in pockets.

Havelock Vetinari watched John Keel, somewhat puzzled. He had seen the man staring into the shadows. And was about to go after him when he saw the man's arm reach out and grab hold of his neck, ripping him from the shadows.

"Right, you bastard. Who are you and-"Vimes stopped. His hand still clenched around the young mans throat. He was young, his black eyes angry and his hair was longer, but-

_That's Vetinari! _Sam Vimes screamed internally.

Vimes dropped the boy, and straightened Vetinari's collar and lapel with shaking fingers. He had almost, oh gods….

"Vetinari. I'm sorry, I…"

He stopped talking abruptly as he realised the silence had developed a watchful quality. He stepped back, Vetinari stepped forward.

"How do you know me?' the boy asked and Vimes almost laughed out loud.

_Know you? Good gods…_

"I don't". Vimes said trying to radiate innocence. He saw the boys look and it was a good look. But Vimes had seen better. On the man in front of him in fact.

"Who are you John Keel?"

Vimes wondered how much trouble he'd get in for answering that question truthfully. Probably a lot. "No one…Vetinari." He had almost, _almost, _said sir.

The boy continued to stare and Vimes realised something he had hoped he'd never have to. The boy, Vetinari, was remarkably good looking. Of course the man was too. But this version was so damn green he-

"I don't believe you John." Vetinari said advancing with slow measured steps. The boy was small, surely Vimes could get past him. _He's trained as an assassin_ the inner Vimes said. Yes, and if this were then I wouldn't stand a chance. But it isn't and-

Vetinari was getting closer.

"Vetinari…"

God the boy was close. Vimes felt something wet slide down his back, and felt the boys hand on his chest as he leant forward. Using Vimes as a support, he went on his tiptoes and, Vimes froze, pressed his lips to Vimes'.

There were several trains running through Vimes' head, all of which decided to suddenly collide at this point. When Vetinari pulled back he was slightly flushed, and doing his best to appear menacing. He needn't. Vimes was about as terrified as he could ever be.

"Call me Havelock," Vetinari said taking one step back. He smiled with an efficiency Vimes knew. "Do not let me detain you sergeant."

Wondering down the cobbled corridors of Ankh Morpork, Vimes let his feet take over so his mind could mentally scream. _He kissed you!_ Were some of his loudest thoughts.

Yes. And he'll probably kill you when you get back.

_If you get back._

_He kissed you!_

Vimes had never suspected Vetinari as being, well, no, he had never wondered about Vetinari. But a man had to have something apart from the occasional game of thud, surely? And as reasonable as this last thought was, there were still the screaming ones.

_He kissed you!_

And somewhere, in the back of his mind, a small dark thought snickered, _And you didn't pull back did you?_

Vetinari was a very intelligent man. So how he failed to realise his attraction to the sergeant was beyond him. He wasn't handsome, but he was striking. There was a way to him that made you look back, and not whistle because he'd most likely beat you for loitering, or some other such made up offence. But look, he made you look. Vetinari followed him, leaping deftly from one rooftop to another as he tracked the older man's movements. His knowledge of this type off affection was wide, his experience, infinitely narrower. He had been raised as an assassin in an all boys' school that discouraged and ignored the subject of adolescent cravings. So many of them had improvised. Vetinari had, blessedly, not been subject to such clumsy activities. And had discovered numerous ways out of the guild, to the seamstress's holdings. He had always thought that if he was going to do something so uncivilised, he was at least going to learn from a professional in these matters. He was, to his teacher's amazement, a remarkably quick study.

Vimes stopped himself. He had been walking his rounds, alone. And had turned down an alley when he heard a shout. He put his hand on his truncheon and glared into the dark. The dark glared back. He felt a hand curl around his neck and another one push down on his hand, so he couldn't draw his truncheon. Damn.

He turned, elbowing his captor in the ribs.

"Now, what are you- Vetinari?"

The dark haired boy stared at him through watering eyes and his hands moved on instinct. Straightening his clothes and patting him on the shoulder awkwardly.

"Are you okay, si- Vetinari?"

The boy straightened, and nodded. One hand going into his jacket and withdrawing a slim wooden box. Vimes pulled back, frowning.

Havelock looked up and smirked, it wasn't an expression he knew. It was pert, and young and made him want to smack the boy up the side of the head.

"You need not be afraid, sergeant." He opened the box to reveal a long stemmed black rose. "It is tradition among assassins to offer a black rose to the person we are courting." He pulled the rose out of the box and handed it to a confused Vimes.

"Courting?" Vimes said wondering what tennis had to do with anything.

Havelock leaned in to kiss Vimes and the sergeant pulled back, swearing.

The boy looked annoyed but he didn't make anther move. "I want to petition to be your lover, John."

Vimes swore a little louder, a blush rising across his features.

"John?"

"…don't know why you'd want to…sure there's a lot of gentlemen up at the assassins guild…why me…?"

Havelock smiled. "Because you're a good man. Because you're always glaring over your own shoulder. Because you're striking. Because, from the moment I first saw you, I wanted to press my lips to yours."

Vimes' grip tightened on the rose stem.

"Do you accept my proposal?"

Vimes, against all the parts screaming for him to say no, said "yes".

Vimes was getting annoyed. That is he was flattered and he was getting annoyed that he was. He could see, if he looked really hard, the boy following him. The certain difference in shade. The somewhat waiting silence. It was in his own office, or what he thought of as his office, that he decided enough was enough. "Vetinari…"

The boy walked out of the shadows, smiling.

"You're very good at seeing me."

Vimes shrugged, "I know what to look for."

Vetinari sat on Vimes' desk, radiating innocence. "And do you often look for me, sergeant?" Vetinari said studying his nails.

_Pert. _The inner Vimes thought longing to wipe that smile off the boys face.

"Vetinari…"

Vetinari moved quickly, closing the distance between them within a heartbeat. He crushed his thin lips to the other mans chapped ones, one hand griping Vimes chin. Vimes tried to pull back sharply and found the boy had a grip he couldn't break.

_I'mgoingtodietodietodietodie…_

Vetinari pulled back, two spots of colour cooling in his usually pale face. "I did say, sergeant. To call me Havelock."

Vimes, to his own disbelief just nodded dumbly. He was shocked and indignant and flattered but those were only his topmost thoughts. Lower down the ladder his hands itched to grab the boy and throw him onto his lap. He resigned this to a shelf to inspect later and tried to stop blushing or swearing.

"Vet- Havelock. How old are you?"

The boy shrugged. "Nineteen."

_Good gods. That was almost indecent._ The inner Vimes thought,_ Is indecnt. It's the bloody patrician of Anhk Morpork _

_And you're not that way?_

_Are you?_

"John?"

Vimes looked up, and realised he had dropped his head in his hands. There were a thousand reasons he shouldn't. He was tampering with the future. He was the patrician. Sybil, ye gods, Sybil.

"John?" Havelock said staring at him. The boy was young. He hadn't realised yet that he had to hide that concern, that worry out of his voice. Vimes reached up and caressed the younger mans face. "You're so young." Vimes said, mostly to himself.

"I've killed men."

"That doesn't change anything." Vimes said kissing the boy chastely, once. He looked into Havelock's eyes and imagined the man, older than he was now, glaring at him form across the years. "Do you want this?"

Havelock just nodded, falling into Vimes' lap. "Yes."

Slowly, experimentally, Vimes ran his hands through the other man hair. Feeling the gentle texture to it. He pushed it up and away from his face, moving at the same time to kiss him slowly. Havelock moaned at the contact and grabbed Vimes' face, deepening the kiss into something warm and fufilling.

He knew it was a mistake. And moments later he sent the boy away, blushing and slightly ruffled. "Don't follow me anymore Havelock. I…don't want you hurt."

The boy just nodded and walked towards the window. _Good gods. _He grabbed the boy around the waist, pulling him back into his embrace. He kissed his neck, and his ear, his jaw…

"Keel…" Havelock said twisting in Vimes' grip. How bad had he wanted this? How long had he stared into those cold eyes and wanted to do _this_? He let the boy go, and mentally cursed. "Good bye Havelock." He said, "Do not let me detain you." Havelock raised a cursory eyebrow. He was lost for words and Sam smiled.

The madam found her nephew, for once, in plain view. His long ebony encased legs were thrown over an arm chair and he stared out of the window, his hands steepled over one knee. "Havelock?" The madam said floating towards him.

"Yes, aunt?"

"You seem happy. What's wrong? Who did you inhume?"

"No one, aunt."

"Oh?" This was a surprise. "Are you bored of being an assassin, then?"

"Yes, aunt."

"What will you do?"

Her nephew said nothing for several moments and the madam found herself getting uncomfortable. Whatever he picked up, he did not learn that silence from her.

"I am….unsure."

"Oh, well- what? You? Havelock? Are you feeling ill?"

"No, aunt. I am considering a life of peace."

"Doctor!" The madam said feeling more and more horrified.

They had been seeing each other for a week, between the riots, the raids and the rounds. It was hectic, but somehow they managed. Everyday Vimes struggled with himself, knowing full well that he'd show up. On time, smiling when he saw the younger boy. Thoughts of returning home became less and less important. Sybil, though he still felt guilty, wasn't constantly hovering in the back of his mind. And sometimes, when they were together, he could just pretend that this was it. That there was no future to return to. No Sam Vimes, only John Keel.

They were in his office, around three am. He was the only one there, and his hands were wrapped around Havelock's waist as his tongue explored the boys mouth. Havelock tasted like water with lemon and mint. He felt strong and wiry under his hands. When he moaned, Vimes had to fight to keep his hands above the boys waist.

"John…" Havelock said pulling back. "Stay with me."

"Havelock…" This is what he had been avoiding. It wasn't that he didn't want to. It was the exact opposite. Because he wanted to, he wouldn't let himself. "You know I can't."

"Why not? You never did tell me why."

"I…" How to explain? About meddling with the future. About him, and Sybil.

"I can't. I don't deserve you." And he was leaving. He didn't like to think about it, but he had to return. His world needed a Sam Vimes. He had responsibilities.

"Havelock, I'm leaving you soon. And if we never…it'll be easier for you to forget me."

Havelock glared at him. "I will find you wherever you hide, John. Don't underestimate me."

"I don't underestimate you" Sam chuckled, "I know better than that."

Havelock didn't respond, he moved forward so they were pressed painfully together and kissed him. It was an angry kiss, hot and tight against the skin.

He pulled back and said, "I'll decide what's good for me sergeant. Meet me tomorrow night."

"Havelock."  
"This is not negotiable, Sergeant."

It was a bloody overcast night and he had refused to light a lamp. Vimes walked with his head down, glaring at the blackness in front of him. A group of assorted thugs numbered from one to five had stepped out, grinning, all surety and cock-sure smiles. The smile had seen Vimes' look and took off running so fast, by the time it resettled, they could taste the sweat running down their necks. "Beat it." Vimes had said gruffly.

They did.

He found the house and was pleased to see it looked run down. Upon stepping inside he found he outside façade, was, haha, a lie. How ironic. Inside the walls were freshly painted, the floors varnished and the furniture tasteful. He remembered a house like that and felt it like a well aimed punch to the kidneys. He turned when he heard the silence, his hand moving to catch the hand that would have caressed his hair. He looked straight into Havelock's eyes and tried, unsuccessfully, to pull the shutters on his own brown eyes. Havelock grabbed his chin and kissed him suddenly, forcefully, his tongue carving long slow circles. He pulled back and glared. "If you want to leave, leave. Now is your last chance sergeant."

Vimes was to angry to answer and just kissed him back. He was angry at himself, for being in love with Vetinarri, for being so weak, for being here.

He was angry that he was going to have to leave.

He was angry that things weren't different.

And he threw this anger, this pointless rage, into the other man. Forcing him against the door, and throwing off his shirt. "Havelock…"

He hadn't done his before, but he knew the….the logistics. His hands fumbled with the younger man's frilly buttons as he continued to kiss him. Havelock, meanwhile, was unclipping his belt and moving his hands up Vimes' shirt. Vimes swore when Havelock found his nipples and bit down on the fabric separating him from Havelock's chest and tore. A moment later Havelock was leaning against the door, his shirt hanging in tatters off his narrow waist, his breathing shallow and rapid. Vimes didn't think, because if he thought he'd probably run away now. He swooped the younger boys up in his arms in a princess hug. "Where?" Sam bit out, his voice husky. The future patrician lifted a finger, and pointed up the stairs. Sam ran up them and threw open the first door he saw. Inside was a double bed and he threw Havelock onto it, and turned and locked the door behind him. He didn't approach Havelock for a moment, he waited and let the sensation of the beast coil back. He had wanted this for so long, but he knew that he had to control himself. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, savouring the midnight sounds that the world brung him. On the bed, he could hear Havelock's breathing slow and begin to even out.

"I don't know how…" He whispered into the nothing. He didn't want to hurt Havelock, and the act had always sounded painful to him.

"Come to bed, John."

His eyes snapped open and he strode towards the bed, kicking off his boots. Immediately he heard the change in pitch of the room. Havelock reached out to him and grabbed his shoulders. Using this as support to bring their lips together into something gentle and enveloping. He knelt on the bed between Havelock's legs, his hands on either side of Havelock's chest. The kiss was innocent, but it became anything but. Their tongues lashing wildly against each other. Havelock wrapped his legs around Vimes' waist and pulled him down, turning so he lay on top. "John…"

He pulled off Vimes' breeches with ease, his hands lingering on his skin as the material passed the man's groin. The older mans breath hitched in his throat and Havelock began rubbing the mans back with slow sensuous movements. His fingers played across Vimes' lower back, making him sway backwards so he bumped into Havelock's front. The sensation sent shivers up his spine and he withheld a moan. The younger boy bent so they were pressed closer, his hand moving to Sam's front and playing over the sensitive skin there. Sam bit his lip when the younger boy found his nipples.

"Do you like this, John?" Havelock whispered in his ear.

"Yes." Havelock was relentlessly cruel in his torture. His hands moving down to find Sam's member. He stroked the shaft with long, then slow movements. To fast but then achingly slow.

"Havelock…" Sam pleaded.

Havelock pulled back, and shuddered. His own aching need stiff and hard against his stomach. He moved his hands in position, and allowed one finger to enter the commander.

Sam hissed as he struggled with himself. Massive waves of pleasure fought against the feeling of being exposed, against being vulnerable. Something he never allowed himself. He felt another finger joining the first and was confronted with a small pain that quickly disappeared. He felt himself being stretched from the inside.

Havelock added open more finger and pushed. He was almost ready and he positioned himself. "John…" He said, putting his hands on either side of the man.

"Do it. Havelock….please."

Sam felt himself being entered and gasped out in pleasure and pain. Is this what it felt like to be…consumed in this way? He arched his back and Havelock began to thrust. Filling him with need and pleasure.

"I'm cl-close." Sam struggled out, his nails digging into the bed sheets.

"Ha-havelock." Sam groaned out as he came. A moment later, so did Havelock. He pulled out after a moment and they lay beside each other in the dark. Just holding each other, neither willing to think about the dawn. Because right now, there was only them, and then, and the world could take a walk.

Later he lay in bed, entwined with the sleeping boy. It was just before dawn and Vimes wondered if he would watch the sunrise today. He usually never did. He liked to get up around noon, when the day had had time to grubby up a bit. Rub some of that shine off. He had no interests in sunrises, his biological clock started somewhere around sunset and stopped around the same time the next day. He was always exhausted. Always catching an hours shut eye standing up, or leaning against a wall somewhere. When he went home he smiled because…that was what you were expected to do. And maybe nothing would ever change, but today wasn't then. Today was now, and he'd do things a little differently.

He sat up, and Havelock groaned. "Stay…"

Vimes patted him absently and searched for his pants. He slid them on, and searched in his pocket. He only had two rings. The one Sybil gave him and the one his grandfather gave him when he was somewhere between a lad and a man. It was a growing gift, and he was grown now. He placed the ring on the night stand and stood up, walking towards his shirt. It was caught on the door. He smiled as he remembered the sensation of Havelock's lips moving across his chest, his hands working the shirt off. "John…" There was just the slight tremor in the boy's voice, but he corrected it. "You're leaving aren't you?"

Vimes nodded, looking out. Somewhere in the future he thought, Havelock Vetinari was waking up to new memories and probably at this moment, digging a bigger scorpion pit. And a private watching booth.

He heard the boy sigh from the bed. "Can you tell me why you're leaving?"

_Could he? _

_No_

_Do it_

"There are people who need a copper. Who need me."

"And who are you John? You never did say."

"I- I'd rather you didn't know. You'd probably be disappointed." He said, smiling despite the pain in his chest.

"Will I see you again?"

Vimes nodded. "I'm sure you will. But don't look forward to it. No doubt you'll want to kill me by then. If I'm not already dead."

There was a hushed, waiting silence, in which Vimes heard Havelock take the ring off the drawer. "Good Bye John Keel."

"Good bye Havelock."

The storm broke.

The library was struck by lightning, twice, just to be annoying.

And John Keel travelled back to the past, and became Sam Vimes.

Thirty years, one severe headache, a hearing, and a hanging later. Sam Vimes sat on a hill and watched the sunrise. He had yet to see Vetinari and he was bone tired. There was a queue for the complaints desk within him, at the front of the line, his knees were first in line. Behind that his lungs were glaring at him, his back, his chest…

He'd have to go see him eventually of course.

But as he watched his first sunset in thirty decades, he remembered dark eyes and cold hands and thought, _let it be tomorrow._

The next day, to his disappointment and cynical anticipation, arrived perfectly well. He greeted it with a scowl and he thought he saw it hunch just a little under that gaze. Standing, he walked to the bathroom and washed. Wilkins knocked and was ignored rather easily once he got the hang of it. Sybil was blessedly out.

"Sir?" Wilkins said from behind the framework. "Sir?"

He shaved, and was relieved to see Sam Vimes in the mirror, glaring back at him. If he had seen Keel, he didn't think he would have been able to do what he was about to do. He felt in his pocket for the eye patch. He'd put it on later.

"Sir. Vetinari has requested an appointment with you. At ten."

It was nine now, and Sam Vimes nodded. "Thank you Wilkins."

It wasn't the clock that annoyed him. Okay, it was the clock. But also, that bastard had him waiting in this room like nothing had happened. He felt the eye patch in his pocket and put it on, swearing under his breath. It was as he felt the stuffy clerk approach him that he thought, _Ye gods. Maybe he doesn't know._

He smiled. Because as terrible as this was going to be, it might have just gotten a little batter. If he was going to die at least, he'd content himself with the image of Vetinarri's face scored with shock.. And all the other images he had of the man now. He could probably form a scrap book.

"The patrician will see you now." Vimes stood, pushing all his fears of scorpions and beheading aside. This would be, if not worth it, that an accumulating factor.

"Come in Vimes." The patrician didn't look up from his desk and Vimes blushed. He was still handsome. His long fingers were steepled over his desk and he had cut his hair short and clean.

"Sir."

Vetinari raised his eyes and Vimes knew he didn't imagine the tremble that went through them. Or the small quirk in his lip. He felt the man in front of him take a deep breath. "John?" He shook his head. "Vimes. What are you…"

"I said we'd meet again, didn't I? Havelock."

The patrician was absolutely silent. He rounded his desk so he stood a foot away form Vimes. After a moment he said, "So you remember then?"

"Sir?"

"Sam, I'm ashamed you think so little of me. When I saw John Keel die, my mind recognised what my other senses were too…anguished, to discern properly. It looked like John, but I had seen death. And there was something a little wrong with it. Imagine my surprise when, years later, I meet a man who bore a striking resemblance to the man I knew. I watched the man get older, and become more and more like the man I knew in silence."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The patrician gave him a very droll look. "What would you have said, Sam? Had I told you that you had slept with a younger version of me when you were forty?"

Vimes was silent.

"No. I watched you grow up, and I pieced the world together."

"Were you…" Gods. What did he want to say? "Were you very…lonely?"

The patrician smiled, "What makes you think you so affected me?"

Vimes said nothing, instead walking toward Vetinari and grabbing his thin shoulders. Kissing him, biting that lower lip, while his hand reached up and grabbed the chain around his neck. It was a guess. But he grabbed the silver chain and pulled it out to reveal the ring hanging by the metal thread. "Now I'll ask you again you arrogant bastard. And I want an answer, no more of your twisty excuses. Were you very lonely with out me?"

Vetinari sighed and leant his head against Vimes' shoulder. "Yes," He whispered.

Vimes stared at the ceiling, his arms coming up to wrap around Vetinari. He mumbled gruffly, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I…" He felt the words rise up in an effort to choke him. He swallowed twice. "I love you Havelock."

Vetinari pulled back and stared at him, his cold eyes doing a number on his heart.

"Since when?"

"Since-" He swallowed, "Since, I don't know. The gonne? The candle incident? Since I held you dying in my arms? It wasn't seeing you as a boy that did it. It was just seeing you."

Vetinari's lip quavered and he said, "You have a wife. She wants a child. You have a house, a title, a life."

"That doesn't change anything." Sam said grabbing Vetinari. "And it doesn't change the way I feel about you."

He felt strong arms wrap around his waist. "Good. Because after thirty years of waiting, I'm not prepared to give you up again, _John._ And to think, you had me calling out the wrong name." He looked up. "We'll have to fix that."

Sam laughed. "As soon as possible Havelock."


End file.
